Part 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Semi-consensual depravity ahead. This story contains elements of coercion and manipulation as the slaves are pushed to new limits. As usual, this installment of the story is completely over the top and unrealistic. The cruelty is gratuitous, the sex outrageous, the lines of consent blurred. None of this stuff should ever happen in real life. I do not support or condone non-consensual sexual activity under any circumstances.

As Mike and Natasha drew closer to the house, trailing their slaves behind them, it became obvious that the party had kicked into high gear. There was the hubbub of excited conversation along with raucous catcalls and whistles emanating from the large living room that opened up onto the back patio.

Mike pushed open the large French doors and ushered the party into the expansive room. For Natasha, it was like stepping into another world.

It took Natasha a few seconds to get her bearings. The room had been completely transformed. Nervously, she shuffled closer to Mike and felt him put a reassuring arm around her shoulder as she regarded her surroundings.

The lights had been turned down and all the furniture in the spacious, high-ceilinged room had been pushed up against the walls, leaving a large central clearing. In the middle of the room, illuminated by a single spotlight, stood a large, imposing piece of furniture.

The breeding bench.

Natasha examined the bench from afar. It had a muscular mahogany base, highly lacquered and shiny in the pooled light. The bench stood about waist high and was shaped like a vaulting horse. About four feet long and two feet wide, it was upholstered in rich brown tufted leather with gleaming brass rivets. The central platform was generously cushioned and had curved, tapering edges. There were padded ledges running along the length of each side, obviously designed to support the knees and elbows of the occupant.

Natasha's eyes were drawn to the heavy steel collar at the head of the bench, which had been permanently bolted in to place. There were also four steel shackles to immobilize the the wrists and ankles. Natasha shuddered at the thought of being blindfolded and strapped, face-down, on this medieval monstrosity, while people lined up to take their turn with her.

She tore her gaze away from the bench and looked around the room.

There were about seventy people in attendance, chatting convivially in small groups. Half of the guests were still clothed and seated in the room's generous assortment of comfortable chairs, most of them sipping drinks. The other half were naked and collared, kneeling or sitting on the floor at their patrons' feet. Several of the slaves were leashed and a good portion were hooded as well.

A loud murmur went through the crowd as Penelope Paine entered the room, trailing her slave, Principal Swanson, behind her on a short leash. It was time for the breeding slave to take her position on the bench.

The young mistress looked radiant, her eyes flashing, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight pony tail. Penelope beamed at the crowd and waved regally as she led her shuffling slave behind her.

The striking blond mistress was dressed in a skin tight leather catsuit with a large zipper in front, which was pulled down almost to her navel to display three quarters of the globes of her perfectly shaped breasts. Penelope was only twenty-four years old, but walked with an air of practiced confidence and grace as she heel-toed it across the room in her patent leather stiletto heels.

Following behind, came her slave, Principal Daphne Swanson. The older slave was naked aside from the standard thick, black collar and ubiquitous stainless steel anal plug. Daphne was thirty-six years old, but had the body of a twenty-year old, thanks to the strict diet and exercise regimen imposed on her by her owner. Like her mistress, the slave's blonde mane was pulled back into a pony tail, which ran down the center of her back as she was led across the room.

As they approached the back of the bench, Penelope stopped walking and gave the leash a sharp tug.

"Present, down!" ordered the pretty young mistress curtly.

Principal Swanson quickly dropped to her knees, lacing her hands behind her head. She spread her knees wide apart and thrust out her breasts, then directed her gaze downward at the floor.

Natasha stared at the kneeling principal from her vantage point ten feet away. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the modifications that had been wrought upon the slave's body. Both of the older woman's nipples had been pierced with thick silver hoops. The nipples themselves had been stretched grotesquely, hanging down a full four inches from the tips of the slave's pert breasts.

There was another glint of steel at the slave's groin. Natasha looked more closely and was shocked to see that the slave's labia had been heavily pierced as well. Natasha counted at least six silver rings on each side, each as thick as her pinky. The hapless slave's pliable inner labia dangled down at least six inches below the vertex of the her thighs, obviously having been stretched by the constant weight of the dangling rings.

Natasha's eyes were drawn upward to the large black tattoo stenciled upon the slave's bare vulva.

T O N G U E S L A V E

Natasha turned to Mike.

"What's a tongue slave?" she whispered into his ear, although she had a pretty good idea of the answer.

Mike noticed the direction of her gaze and smiled.

"A tongue slave's only purpose it to provide oral service to others," Mike replied simply. "They themselves are kept permanently denied."

Natasha nodded, then shook her head slowly, thinking of the haughty principal being reduced to nothing more than a sexual appliance for others.

Natasha's further explorations of the room were interrupted when she felt Mike take her gently by the arm. He guided her to the center of the room, their slaves shuffling along behind them on their leads. They approached the breeding bench, then turned to face the crowd. Mike ordered the slaves to kneel. Tim knelt down awkwardly beside Principal Swanson, smiling and nodding absurdly at the middle-aged woman, who ignored him completely.

The crowd hushed as the members realized there were outsiders in their midst. Some of the guests recognized Natasha and her husband and called out to them by name. Natasha waved awkwardly to several acquaintances in the crowd, smiling shyly.

Mike cleared his throat, then boomed out the traditional invocation.

"Ladies and gentlemen, masters and mistresses, slaves and cuckolds and cuckqueans alike, greetings to all souls joined together tonight for the fellowship of the breeding."

A cheer roared out from the crowd, accompanied by wolf whistles and the chimes of silverware on glass.

Mike held up his hands, quieting the crowd.

"I know you're all itching to get started, especially given tonight's guest of honor, but I have some good news to share," he shouted above the babble of the crowd.

Mike turned to the Martins, extended his arm toward them and introduced them to the crowd with a flourish of his hand. "I am happy to announce that I am sponsoring Natasha and Tim Martin as probationary members of the society, starting tonight."

Another cheer erupted from the crowd.

Again, Mike waved the audience quiet, then motioned toward Natasha and her kneeling husband.

"As you can no doubt surmise, Natasha is the mistress and Tim is her chastity cuckold slave. This lovely couple has done me the honor of requesting that I serve as their bull. I have accepted their invitation, but tonight I need your help training my new fluffer. Tim has sucked his first cock today, but he has yet to taste a real man's seed. Tonight, we must rectify this situation."

Mike snapped his fingers, indicating that Tim should rise. The naked slave stood on wobbly legs, his chastity cage swinging daintily as he gained his balance.

Mike stepped up to Tim and roughly turned him by the shoulders until his back faced the audience. A ripple of laughter went through the crowd as the members read the written invitation inscribed on the slave's flesh.

"Ten is the absolute minimum," Mike shouted over the murmur of the crowd. "Masters and slaves alike are welcome to participate in his oral education, but I ask that you mark his progress as you go," he added, holding up the thick red Sharpie and handing it to the bewildered slave.

Another cheer went up from the crowd, followed by a chant.

"Fresh meat...fresh meat...fresh meat!"

Tim was ordered once again to kneel and face the crowd. He was unnerved to see that several of the men were unbuckling their belts and raising their hands, including, to his horror, a man he recognized as the dean of the economics department.

Mike raised his hands once again to quiet the crowd.

"And now, without further ado, let the breeding begin!"

The crowd cheered.

When the cheering had died down, Mike turned to Penelope.

"Mistress Penelope, do you offer your slave for the pleasure of the membership tonight?"

Penelope continued to hold her slave's leash in her right hand. She placed her left hand on Principal Swanson's head, a remarkably proprietary gesture.

"I do, Master Micheal. May she serve the society well," came the traditional reply.

Mike walked up to the kneeling principal.

"And do you offer yourself to be used tonight for the amusement and pleasure of the society, of your own free will, without coercion or reservation?"

The crowd hushed.

"I do so offer," Principal Swanson intoned solemnly, her voice clear and strong.

The crowd cheered.

Mike nodded his head in approval. He reached down and retrieved a small whiteboard about one foot square that had been resting against the bench. He displayed it briefly to the crowd, showing the surface to be blank, then held the board out toward Penelope.

Penelope smiled and grasped the small magic marker affixed to the white board by a short length of twine.

She began to write on the board.

Another hush fell across the crowd as they waited for the young mistress to finish her specifications.

This was an important moment. Owners often placed limits on the how their slaves could be used during a breeding. Depending upon their level of training, it might not be safe or practical for certain slaves to engage in all activities. The membership was always respectful of the wishes of the owner and behaved accordingly.

Penelope finished writing, then straightened up and capped the pen. Mike, who was the only one in a position to see what she had written, smiled at the young mistress and gave her a thumbs up.

He turned and displayed the board to the crowd, raising it over his head, like a prize fighter hosting a championship belt.

NO RESTRICTIONS

The crowd erupted into its loudest paroxysm of the night. The large chamber echoed with loud hoots and whistles. Several men high-fived each other.

Mike leaned over and placed the white board into a slot built in to the side of the bench, so the instructions for the slave's use would be prominently displayed to all who stepped up to take their pleasure from her.

When the white board had been secured, Mike straightened and scanned the crowd until he found Reyna, who had been watching from a respectful distance. He snapped his fingers, indicating that the pretty Asian mistress should come join him at the bench. She stepped quickly up to the man of the house and curtsied stiffly.

"Yes, sir?"

Mike motioned to Tim and Chloe, who remained kneeling beside Principal Swanson in front of the bench.

"Please take the slaves in hand, Reyna, while I start the breeding. I want Tim to start circulating immediately to begin his oral training. Do what you like with Chloe."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," replied the young mistress before curtsying again.

Reyna stepped over to the kneeling slaves and pulled them roughly to their feet by their leashes.

"Stand up, sluts, you heard the man," Reyna hissed. She gave Tim's leash a sharp tug. "Time to learn to suck cock, Mr. Martin."

Reyna began leading the slaves away from the bench and toward the waiting crowd. Tim looked back at his wife as he was being led away, his eyes wide with panic. Natasha just smiled and gave her husband a dismissive wave. Tim stopped walking and opened his mouth as of to ask for a final reprieve, but was quickly jerked off balance when Reyna pulled hard on his leash. As he stumbled forward Tim cast one final glance back over his shoulder at his wife, his eyes as white as hard boiled eggs.

And then he was gone.

When the slaves had been led away, Mike leaned over and whispered something in Penelope's ear. She nodded and handed him the leather looped handle of her slave's leash. Mike gave it a gentle tug and helped the principal get to her feet. He led her to a small step on the back of the bench and helped her climb up on to the padded platform.

Principal Swanson crawled up and lay face down. She shimmied forward until her throat came to rest on the lower semi-circle of the steel collar, which had been opened on its hinge. Natasha was reminded of a prisoner being positioned on the platform of a guillotine. Mike gently lowered the top half of the collar, locking the slave's head in place.

The slave squirmed awkwardly on the platform for a few seconds with her neck pinioned by the collar, then carefully positioned her knees and elbows on to the padded side boards, trying to get as comfortable as possible, her body jewelry tinkling musically as she settled in to place. She felt the cold steel of the manacles closing around her wrists and ankles.

Mike stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Principal Swanson was perfectly positioned for the festivities to come. Her rump hung just over the back edge of the padded bench, her thighs spread wide as she straddled the curved girth of the padded central platform. The slave's anus and vagina would be open and accessible from behind while her mouth would remain positioned at the perfect height to service guests who approached from the front.

Mike noticed the jeweled stainless steel plug still embedded in the slave's ass and waved Penelope over to the bench.

He pointed to the plug and smiled. Penelope smacked her forehead as if she'd forgotten her car keys and reached down and roughly pulled the large steel plug free. The principal yelped.

As the host, it was Mike's responsibility to ensure that the breeding would proceed safely and smoothly. He stepped behind the bench and leaned forward to inspect the breeding slave's holes. He pulled Daphne's cheeks roughly apart. The slave's anus gaped and winked at him following the abrupt removal of the plug.

He examined the skin around her rosebud to ensure it was free of abrasions, then turned his attention to her vagina. The stretched and slackened labia lolled open obscenely, the tension of the heavy rings keeping the inner lips splayed widely apart. He noticed the slave was already leaking copiously on to the shiny brown leather upholstery. He inserted two fingers and found the vagina sufficiently lubricated.

Satisfied, Mike stepped to the front of the bench and offered his fingers to the slave for cleaning. Principal Swanson docilely suckled and licked the proffered digits. After a few seconds, Mike withdrew his fingers, absently wiping them dry on the principal's hair, then reached into his coat pocket. He handed Penelope a black padded blindfold. The young mistress placed the leather covering over the slave's eyes, securing it with Velcro straps at the back of her head.

It was time.

Mike clapped his hands, signaling the supporting slaves to take their stations around the bench. Two slaves, one a middle-aged female and one a thirty-something male sissy cuckold slave, knelt on each side at the back of the bench. They would serve as the official fluffers. It was a great honor to serve at a breeding in this capacity, so both slaves knelt proudly, their backs ramrod straight as their owners looked on from the crowd.

A third slave, this one a pretty twenty-something female, knelt directly behind the bench. She would serve as the cleaner. Her job was to lick up any errant drippings and also help keep the breeding slave's holes sufficiently lubricated with her tongue. She was naked aside from collar and plug and her hair had been shorn to a close-crop to keep it from interfering with her duties.

As soon as the cleaner got into position, the pretty slave leaned forward and began to lave the principal's vagina and anus with long, broad strokes of her well-trained tongue.

Principal Swanson sighed at the delicate touch of the cleaner's limber tongue. It had been so long since she had been allowed any sexual release at all. For the past several years, her mistress had kept her in a constant state of denial, using the principal's vagina only for punishment and pain, never for pleasure.

The young mistress had her reasons for such cruelty. Once upon a time, Principal Swanson had been the mistress and Penelope Paine had been her young and innocent slave, until one day the tables had been turned forever. By Penelope's calculations, the middle-aged slave's penance was not yet complete for the cruelties she had inflicted upon Penelope and several other young women she had seduced while a Professor of English at the university.

So, Principal Swanson sighed again as the cleaner's tongue worked its lubricious magic, her eyes closed tightly with contentment behind the blindfold, savoring the alien sensation of pleasure emanating from her loins. For just a few seconds, the slave was transported back to a time when she had had her pick of pretty young coeds to attend to her every whim. Thinking of those days and feeling the warm wet tongue of the cleaner, the principal realized with a jolt that she was close to having an orgasm.

Orgasm.

The word echoed down the corridors of the slave's mind like an ancient incantation. It had been years since Principal Swanson had been allowed to cum. The irony was that the mistress who kept her in a permanent state of denial had actually been the person who delivered her last orgasm, kneeling between Daphne's legs that afternoon in her private office in the English department at the university. That was the day Professor Swanson's life had been turned upside down, the day the mistress had become the slave.

Today, she would have her release at last.

Although Principal Swanson had put on a good act, feigning reluctance at the prospect of taking her place on the breeding bench, in reality her heart had soared when her number had finally come up. Sure, she would have to endure some discomfort as many of the guests would no doubt choose to penetrate her anus, but at least a few would be sure to select her vagina. The slave would finally get the chance to have an actual orgasm.

Her young mistress had even given her blessing as she leashed the principal in the anteroom before leading her out to the bench.

"Alright, pig, I'm only going to say this once. I know you won't be able to stop yourself from squirting and cumming like a street whore when that sloppy cunt of yours is finally fucked again after all these years," she had said curtly, reaching down and giving her labial rings a sharp tug for emphasis.

The slave had winced, but remained still.

"So while you're on the breeding bench and later during the recovery session, you have my permission to cum, but I expect you to keep close track and tell me the total count at the end. You'll get ten strokes for every climax at your cunting tomorrow."

With that, the young mistress had given the slave's labial rings one final tug, then clipped the leash on to the D-ring of her collar.

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